


Cunning Edge

by epkitty



Series: The Glorfindel and Erestor Smut Chronicles [6]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Silence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of (possibly dangerous) knifeplay at night on the training yard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cunning Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted under the title: "On the Training Yard AKA Under the Moon"

It was fairly well known that Erestor didn’t sleep much. It was unsurprising for the early risers and the night owls to encounter him in just about any part of the House or the surrounding grounds. Though it was true that much of his time was spent in the offices and library, he also might be found standing at a window or sitting in the gardens or just roaming the place like a ghost.

It was once the very middle of the night when Erestor was just walking that his feet carried him toward the barracks and stables, where -- it just so happened -- Glorfindel’s office and quarters were situated. As far as Erestor knew, he was not actively seeking out the golden Elf, but he found himself in the Captain’s domain nonetheless. 

As he neared the wooden stadium that served as the guards’ training yard, Erestor could hear muffled grunts from within. Giving in to curiosity, Erestor aimed himself in that direction and disappeared into the shadowy tunnel, following it to where it opened in an archway to the round, dirt yard. He supposed that if there was anything untoward going on within, that he could sneak away, unseen.

His breath caught when he peered round the wall into the moonlit yard.

Glorfindel stood within, alone, at the center of the plain dirt circle, with his largest sword, one that takes both strength and skill to wield, and he moved through a series of stances and attacks, his hair half-undone and wild, his eyes flashing with menace.

Erestor was only disappointed to find him fully clothed.

Still, the sight was one of majesty and subtle danger.

Remaining in the concealing night shadows of the arena, Erestor’s fingers whispered over the fabric of his dark robes, untying the formal sash that held the outer robe in place. He hung his clothes, layer by layer, on the little wooden pegs that lined the interior of the dark passage he hid in. Naked, he stepped out into the full moon’s light.

Glorfindel halted and spun to face him, lowering the sword slowly, as though uncertain of the vision before him.

They stood there in the night’s moonlight, looking at one another.

Erestor could hear his heart beating; the blood rushed through his ears and stained his face. He felt the haze of heat surround him as he grew helplessly aroused at the state of his own vulnerable nudity and the look in dark blue eyes.

Glorfindel narrowed those eyes, murky thoughts clouding the usually clear surface of his face. He turned away to return his sword to the racks. When he faced Erestor again, the large, strong hand held instead a wicked knife, long and curved like the blades of the east. His normally bright eyes flashed dark and menacing in the night as he waved the knife to gesture Erestor forward.

Trusting as a unicorn to a virgin, the dark-haired Elf advanced into the center of the stadium’s dirt field to meet the faye warrior.

Breathing hard, Glorfindel bit his lower lip and stared the creature up and down. When he reached out, his hand was not empty.

Closing his eyes, Erestor gasped and stood as still as he could.

The knife’s sharp tip traced a slow line from Erestor’s defined jaw down his slender neck into swirling patterns that covered his chest. Every breath sent the knifepoint deeper into his skin and Erestor couldn’t stop the shivers.

Glorfindel watched with awe and envy -- awe of the trust, envy of the knife -- as a thin, white line appeared in the trail of the knife. The lines quickly turned pink, the tiny blood vessels under the skin breaking in the wake of the sharp implement. The knife drifted lower, it’s cunning edge sending Erestor into a cold sweat.

Lips parted, breaths fast and shallow, Glorfindel withdrew the weapon only to lift Erestor’s erect cock with the flat of the blade. He kissed Erestor’s blushing lips in a heated mesh of mouths. His broad hand neatly wrapped around the swan-pale neck as he forced the nude Elf to his knees in the dirt.

Erestor went willingly, caught between strong hand and sharp knife. 

Crouching, looming, Glorfindel kissed him hard and then yanked back on the black hair, baring the pale throat. His teeth sunk in and Erestor whimpered, the first sound to break the stifling air of their midnight meeting.

Without warning, the knife disappeared, but with his eyes turned to the sky, Erestor had no idea where it might next land. He licked suddenly dry lips and felt nothing but the hard earth under his knees and wet mouth at his throat as his dark eyes fell shut. 

Touch abruptly vanished and Erestor’s eyes flashed open to the sight of the singing stars, but he could make no movement as the knife settled on his wet throat, forcing him cruelly over backwards. A hot hand wet with spit grabbed his thrumming cock and jerked him swiftly as the knife dug thrillingly further into his neck just under his jaw.

Too fast, too intense, Erestor came over the rough hand, bracing himself back with his hands on the packed earth, hair dragging in the dirt.

Another whimper escaped him as the knife withdrew and Glorfindel stood looking down at him. He lifted the knife to lick the single stain of blood upon it.

Shocked, Erestor recovered his breath, his composure, and reached up to blot at his neck with the back of his hand. He licked the blood that smeared the pale skin and then undid Glorfindel’s trousers. Released to the cool night air, the turgid cock poked out from dark fabric and Erestor swallowed it down with brutal hunger, sucking, slurping, and biting harshly.

Glorfindel made hardly a sound. The knife fell to the dry earth. Strong hands fisted the dark, dusty hair.

Erestor’s hands tugged at heavy, pendulous balls and he closed his eyes to the world.

High on the craziness of it, Glorfindel huffed and heaved and spent himself in Erestor’s working mouth.

The dark Elf swallowed it down and slowly gained his feet, brushing the dirt from raw knees. Glorfindel kissed him slowly. 

Glorfindel returned the knife to its place and then they moved into the shadows of the walkway, where Glorfindel’s strong hands gently clothed the pale body. He kissed the lines and bruises before each disappeared under blue velvet.

Hand in hand, they meandered the shadows until morning.

= = = = =

The End


End file.
